


It's all about Point of View

by AlexTheShipper



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Bullying, Gen, Loyal Stiles Stilinski, Mind Manipulation, Morally Ambiguous Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott is doing better at being a good friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22918126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexTheShipper/pseuds/AlexTheShipper
Summary: Stiles changed one day, now he's a person who uses knives like an extension of his arms, and kills without thought. At least that's how Scott saw it, but Stiles saved a creature, and was granted a boon. Scott didn't understand before, but he will.
Relationships: Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 14
Kudos: 347





	It's all about Point of View

One day Stiles changed, Scott couldn’t really put his finger on how, or why, but Stiles was different. He looked the same, he smelled the same, but his smile was somber, and he didn’t seem to talk as much as he used to. That was the biggest difference at first, the sadness.

“I’m coming with you.” Stiles said, and Scott watched as his best friend turned stranger strapped a knife to his ankle.

“I don’t think-“ He started to argue, Stiles didn’t need to be involved.

“I wasn’t asking.” Stiles says, and then he’s standing pulling his baseball bat out of the trunk with a certain grace Scott is still learning to expect. “Let’s go save Erica.” He says, and Scott forces himself into motion.

“We don’t even know what has her? Shouldn’t you stay here doing research?” Scott tries, hoping logic will get Stiles to stop. He isn’t sure if he’s more afraid of Stiles getting hurt, or if he’s more afraid for whoever winds up on the other side of Stiles’ knife.

“It’s a Rusalka.” Stiles says, not even glancing at him. “Don’t worry. I already know how to kill it.” Scott stops in his tracks gaping after his best friend, the kid he grew up with, and wondering who this person is.

“We don’t kill.” He mumbles, too weakly to be heard over the sound of Stiles humming to himself. Stiles never stops, and he has to race to catch up once the teen starts disappearing into the woods.

A horrible screech sounds, and suddenly something big and ugly is flying at them. Scott can’t help it, he yelps, and dives out of the way. Stiles doesn’t flinch though, and out of the corner of his eye Scott watches as his best friend swings a baseball bat at whatever the hell that was.

“We’re gonna die.” He moans, and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“You’re not gonna die Scott.” The thing, the Rusalka grabs onto his bat, yanking it out of Stiles hands, and before Scott can blink his best friend is holding a knife in each hand. “I won’t let you.” The thing lunges at Scott again, and Scott let’s the shift take over, clawing at it as best he can while avoiding razor sharp teeth.

“Duck.” Stiles orders, with a voice like steel. He listens on instinct, and not a moment too soon as a knife slices through the space his head just occupied. The Rusalka screams, as the knife imbeds itself in it’s throat, and Stiles uses a bit of leverage to get it off Scott and on the ground.

“Jesus Christ.” Scott breathes, and he can’t help but look away as Stiles twists the knife, carving a pattern into the creature until suddenly the whole thing is on fire.

“There. Dead.” Stiles announces, standing up and wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Stiles how could you just-“ Scott can’t believe that he did that, that he would take a life so casually. Stiles isn’t a killer, so how could he just burn something alive like that.

“You saved us.” Something says, and Scott stops to look at this strange little creature made of wood and leaves that pulls Erica out of a bush with him. She’s bleeding, but looks to be mostly okay if half asleep.

“It was my honor.” Stiles says, bowing to the creature. “I came to retrieve my packmate, thank you for protecting her.” The creature beams at him revealing sharp teeth.

“I’m going to give you a gift.” The little thing decides, nodding to itself. “Yes a gift for the good one.” Scott is about to argue that murder does not make Stiles the good one, but the creature moves as quick as a blink and scrapes a single claw across Scott’s skin.

“No!” Stiles shouts, but he’s too slow to prevent the attack.

Scott blinks, and everything is sideways, Stiles standing over him, clearly defensive. There’s talking above him, but he can’t quite make it out.

Scott blinks, and the world is getting blurry, and dark, and he can’t really hear Stiles anymore, but he knows he’s still talking.

Scott blinks, and opens his eyes to the crystal-clear image of his younger self. A younger him who is struggling to breathe in a way he hasn’t since the bite. He can’t feel his chest burning with it though, only the panic and desperation that Stiles was feeling.

 _He’s gonna die!_ Stiles brain is practically screaming. “I’ll get your inhaler.” He promises Scott in that sure way that Scott knows means his friend won’t let himself fail. He can feel the fear, and panic, and guilt, and the rabbit quick pounding of his heart inside his chest. Was Stiles always this scared?

He? They? Stiles body, darts off, coming face to face with Jackson inhaler in hand.

“Give me that.” Stiles says, and Jackson’s face twists into a sneer.

“Make me.” He says, and Scott knows that’s a mistake, even as rage wells up inside Stiles. There isn’t a moment of hesitation, Stiles steps up to the other boy, and slams his fist into the side of Jackson’s face hard enough to knock the other kid on his ass. Scott expect Stiles to feel satisfied, or upset over what he had to do, instead there’s only determination as Stiles grabs the inhaler and runs back to young Scott.

There’s never a moment of thought for Jackson, only concern that things are taking too long, and Scott is dying.

Jackson bursts into tears behind them, but Stiles doesn’t look back. _You have to save him_. Repeats like a mantra as he shoves the inhaler into Scott’s hand.

“I got it.” He says, and Scott watches himself take a puff, then another. Watches the purple slowly fade from his cheeks. “You’re gonna be okay.” Stiles says, relaxing for the first time since air escaped Scott’s lungs and refused to go back in.

“Mr. Stilinski.” Their teacher says, a bruised Jackson standing behind her.

“Yes?” He asks, the picture of innocence. There’s not an ounce of regret in him, not with Scott behind him, breathing.

“We don’t hit other students.” She says, and Stiles understands that this is a rule. He knows that he broke this rule. “Violence is not the answer.” Stiles doesn’t agree. _Talking would have killed him_. Stiles mind rages.

“Scott could have died.” Stiles says, glaring up at the teacher. “There was no time to argue, or get you. I had to help him, or Jackson would have killed him.” He’s right, Scott knows it, and so does the teacher, because she can’t argue.

“I’ll be contacting everyone’s parents.” She announces. Stiles shrugs, even if he does get in trouble for hitting Jackson, he knows he did the right thing. Scott’s alive, that’s all that matters.

Scott blinks, and everything goes dark. He wonders for a moment where that Stiles went? The one who opposed death so thoroughly, would break any rule to protect a life. Where was he? And who was this stranger with a knife?

Scott blinks, and opens his eyes to a room he’s seen only once. Allison’s basement. There’s a sizzling sound, and when he glances towards the wall Erica and Boyd are there, strung up with electricity running through their veins.

 _No_! Stiles thoughts scream. He turns furious eyes on Gerard, and even though Scott knows how small Stiles is, in that moment he fears for Gerard.

“Tell me about Derek Hale.” Gerard orders, and there’s determination, and anger, and pain coursing through Stiles. There’s fear too, a shaking trembling thing that threatens to consume them both, held back only by an iron will.

“Fuck you.” Stiles spits, and Scott has to watch as Gerard kicks Stiles with a steel toed boot, has to feel the way pain blossoms from his ribs. “Monster.” Stiles hisses, and Gerard smiles down at him. Scott hates that smile.

“You will tell me who killed my daughter.” Gerard states, a sharp kick impacting with Stiles ribs with each word. Scott wants to answer, wants the pain to stop. Stiles brain never considers it, always so stubborn.

“You had a daughter?” He asks, and his mouth forces it’s way into a smile. “The only Argent women I have met have been to monstrous to be something as human as a daughter.” Scott wants to cry out in Allison’s defense, but the memories Stiles has of Erica and Boyd telling him that Allison put them on that wall stops him.

Gerard kicks him again, and this time Stiles collapses. “Think carefully Stiles, I won’t be so nice next time.” He turns towards Erica and Boyd and suddenly Scott feels Stiles fear grow until it’s in his throat, threatening to choke him. 

“What? You running scared old man?” He asks, and Gerard is on him in a moment. There’s pain, but also relief as Stiles glances over at Erica and Boyd. _Good_. He thinks, and Scott cannot fathom what in this situation could be good.

“How dare you speak to me that way?” Gerard roars, sounding almost feral. Scott’s afraid of him, but Stiles feels only pride in himself.

“You’re safe.” He whispers, just quietly enough for Erica and Boyd to hear. When he’s dragged from the room, he kicks the electric box, and the pride he feels is burning as Boyd and Erica sag in relief.

Maybe Stiles has always been Batman, Scott thinks. Except batman doesn’t kill.

He opens his eyes, to see Derek’s loft, flooded. The power is out, and there is panic coursing through his veins.

“Boyd’s dead.” Derek says gruffly, and Scott can feel the grief take hold of him. He doesn’t remember this though, Boyd isn’t dead. Grief is a strange thing, and once Scott notices it, he realizes that Stiles carries grief and guilt like it’s something to be kept.

Scenes flash by quickly after that.

“Erica’s dead Stiles.” Scott says, and Scott feels a little like he’s losing his mind. He never said that, he doesn’t remember this.

“Kali?” Stiles asks, like he’s resigned to it, and Scott see’s himself nod. He feels the overwhelming grief, and fear, and worry that Stiles feels.

He blinks.

“Kill her.” Stiles voice says, and there’s something dark in his head something controlling his tongue. Scott wants to stop it, wants to intervene. So does Stiles, there’s fear, and rage and so much frustration and guilt that Scott can’t breathe from it.

The oni does as ordered, and Scott watches as Allison dies, hears the nogitsune laugh, feels it’s glee at what had happened, even as he feels Stiles grief.

He blinks his eyes open in a darkened hallway at school. He’s running, the sound of footsteps behind him, too close.

“Stiles!” The voice sings, and he doesn’t recognize it. Stiles is breathing heavy, eyes darting around for an escape as he ducks through a doorway. His eyes light upon some scaffolding and he’s darting forward.

“I’m gonna kill you Stiles.” The voice says, and he knows it belongs to someone named Donovan. “Then I’m gonna kill your dad.” It’s a low blow, and Scott feels the panic turmoil is Stiles stop as he starts scaling the scaffolding, even as a hand reaches up to grab him.

 _Have to survive, have to save dad_. Runs through his head like a mantra, and Stiles kicks free and climbs. He’s still being followed though, and panic is threatening to consume him. Scott can feel his terror, at the thought of his dad’s death if he never makes it out.

“Give up Stiles.” Donovan says, and Stiles needs to slow him down, and get some space to think. Scott watches as he grabs a pin above him and pulls. Metal bars tumble down behind them, and when he looks down Donovan is dead, speared through with a pole.

“What have I done.” Stiles whispers, but it wasn’t his fault. Scott wants to tell him as much.

He blinks and he’s looking at his own face twisted with an anger he doesn’t recognize.

“You’re a murderer Stiles.” He see’s himself say, and he doesn’t remember this conversation. He wants to argue with himself, it was self-defense, Stiles had no choice.

“He was gonna kill me, and my dad.” Stiles says, and the Scott in front of him looks disappointed. “I had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” That Scott says, and Scott hates him, hates that person. Stiles doesn’t though, Stiles just grieves their friendship.

When he opens his eyes again it’s to the sight of his own death. He feels something in Stiles break, and a well of magical energy springs from him.

“How dare you!” Stiles shouts, and the person with his claws still in Scott’s throat looks at Stiles for possibly the first time.

“I want the void back.” He, Theo answers. I want his pack, as my own. Stiles shakes his head, a hatred Scott has never felt welling up within him.

“You never should have hurt him.” Stiles says, and then Theo is screaming as something wraps around his chest and squeezes. Scott doesn’t want to watch, as Stiles literally tears the man in half. Stiles never looks away, power coursing through him, and a sadness and an anger that consumes everything else. When Theo lays there dead there is only one emotion left.

“I’m sorry.” Stiles whispers, and the guilt threatens to choke him, he clings to Scott’s body, as he cries for his best friend. Scott knows he isn’t sorry for killing Theo, he’s sorry for failing to save Scott.

It’s hard to blame him, not when he can feel what Stiles feels. When he knows that Theo would have kept killing. He isn’t the last to die though.

Hunters come to town, and he watches through Stiles eyes as they kill Derek, Isaac, and Peter.

He watches as a witch kills Kira.

He watches as a demon kills Lydia, and Jackson dies giving Stiles the opportunity to kill it.

He watches as Stiles learns how to fight, and kill, and survive. Watches and feels every loss, every death.

He watches the Sheriff die, take a bullet for his son.

He see’s Stiles level half the preserve, see’s him walk up a tree and kneel at its roots.

He feels his desperation as Stiles draws a knife across his own neck, and bleeds out on top of a stump.

When he blinks his eyes open, Stiles is alive, and well, and so is everyone else. There’s determination, and sadness now, as Stiles prepares himself to lose his friends so he can save them.

Stiles kills the Alpha pack the moment they enter Hale territory, so that Erica and Boyd will live, freeing Cora.

He kills everything and everyone who poses a threat to his pack, and his friends, and his dad. He never regrets it. Never shares with anyone the burden of grief it puts on him. He takes every wary look, every distrustful glance.

Scott can’t regret it either. He can regret the way he treated Stiles, the way he looked at him and saw a killer instead of a protector. 

“Scott, wake up!” Stiles growls, and he is standing between Stiles and the creature knife in hand, ready to defend his unconscious friend.

“Stiles!” Scott says, and he can’t help himself. He tackles Stiles into a hug. He notices how the knife shifts in Stiles grip as he goes down, never coming close to his own skin.

“Scott?” Stiles asks, and he hates that his friend is confused. “What did that thing do to you?” There’s danger in his voice that Scott can recognize now.

“Showed me some truths.” Scott answers. “Thank you, for protecting us.”

“I’ll always protect you Scottie.” Stiles says, and Scott hates the burden that Stiles carries more than anything.

“I know.” He replies. “I know.” Stiles looks confused, he doesn’t understand yet, but he will. He’s not alone anymore. Scott won’t let him be. 


End file.
